


it's just that it's delicate

by acciocreativity (condescendingsmirk)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, disclaimer: this definitely actually happened, fluff fluff fluff fluff FLUFF, x factor era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/condescendingsmirk/pseuds/acciocreativity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry giggles sleepily and Louis’ heartstrings give a little tug. “Come snuggle, then?” he asks hopefully, blinking up at Louis slowly. He brings a hand up to rub at his tired eyes. “Body heat and all that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's just that it's delicate

**Author's Note:**

> warm and snuggly lil x-factor fic b/c i really didn't feel like studying economics and the 'do you ever think about boys?' line's been stuck in my head for months. 
> 
> ALSO b/c i don't understand why this site isn't full to the brim with snuggly lil x-factor era fics?? someone fix this asap
> 
> (also the reason only niall's mentioned is b/c this is after liam and zayn switched into one of the ex contestants rooms b/c the other three were slobs and they got the shittiest room in the house and stuff w/e w/e y'knooooow how it is)
> 
> title's taken from 'delicate' by damien rice!!!!

“Harry?” Louis whispers into the darkness of the room, hanging his head over the side of his top bunk to peer down at the bed beneath him. He immediately misses the semi-warmth his body'd created under the covers and goosebumps prickle his exposed arms. “Hazza? You awake?” 

A head of curls peeks out from under a mound of blankets. “No,” it says, voice hoarse with sleep. “S’too cold to be awake. I am definitely asleep.”

Louis grins. His teeth chatter. “I’m freezing my tits off, mate. You’d think Simon Cowell’d be able to afford to heat the bloody X-Factor house, wouldn’t you?” 

Harry giggles sleepily and Louis’ heartstrings give a little tug. “Come snuggle, then?” he asks hopefully, blinking up at Louis slowly. He brings a hand up to rub at his tired eyes. “Body heat and all that.”

He shouldn’t. Louis knows he shouldn’t, because he’s not stupid and he recognizes the tight feeling in his chest every time Harry says his name or squeezes in between him and Zayn on the couch even though it’d be a lot easier to just take the empty armchair.

Because he's not stupid, and he can put a name to the fluttering in his stomach whenever he makes Harry giggle or blush, or when they have conversations with just their eyes across the table when Niall says something especially ridiculous, or when they grin at each other at rehearsals when Liam tells them all off for fucking around even though they all know he doesn’t really mean it.

But, because he’s not stupid, he also sees the way Harry looks at him hopefully after making a joke. The way he lights up when Louis laughs, how he always leans into his touch and how his eyes sparkle when they make eye contact on stage.

“Budge over, then,” he commands, swinging his legs over the side of the bed before sliding off and landing with a soft thud.

Harry smiles up at him and scoots in towards the wall, lifting up the covers for Louis invitingly.

“Y’know you might be warmer if you’d put some clothes on, Curly,” Louis says in amusement, shuffling in beside Harry.

Harry immediately cuddles up against him, resting his head on Louis’ chest and wrapping his arms around his waist, drawing him closer on the small bed. “I’m wearing boxers,” he protests, slipping a leg between Louis’ for good measure. “Besides, I have you to keep me warm, don’t I?” he adds quietly, looking up at Louis with mirth shining in his eyes even through the dark.

Louis wants to kiss him. Probably more than he’s ever wanted to kiss anybody else ever. “You ask so much of me.” He heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Dunno why you couldn’t just snuggle with Niall, I’m sure he’s got more body heat than I do.”

Harry laughs into his chest and Niall gives a particularly loud snore as if in agreement. “Niall farts in his sleep,” Harry argues, before adding quietly, “Plus, you’re my favourite. You know that.”

Louis flushes, glad for the cover of the dark. “Yeah, I know,” he whispers. “I guess you’re not so bad yourself. I do miss Nicolo, though.”

Harry pinches his side and Louis squeals, quietly so as not to wake Niall. “I know I’m your favourite, too,” he says defiantly, shimmying up so he’s at eye level with Louis, resting his head on the same pillow. Close, but not close enough, never close enough. “Even if you can’t stay serious long enough to admit it.”

Louis pouts. “I can so be serious,” he protests.

“Prove it, then,” Harry dares.

“I _was_ being serious about Nicolo. He was fun.”

“You hated Nicolo, Lou. You put a spider in his shampoo bottle.”

Louis laughs loudly at that, covering his mouth at the unexpected sound. Harry’s expression brightens, pleased. “Fuck, that was definitely one of my better ones,” he whispers wistfully when he’s sure Niall’s still asleep, remembering the way Nicolo had shrieked and run past their room completely naked. Liam could barely scold them through his poorly concealed laughter. “He still doesn’t know it was me.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh, he knows. It obviously wasn’t Mary.”

“I don’t know. Mary’s quite the wildcard.”

“See?” Harry frowns, tugging on Louis’ shirtfront. “You can’t be serious long enough to tell me I’m your favourite. My ego’s deflating by the minute.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Lou _is_ ,” Harry whines.

“Okay, fine. God, you’re relentless,” Louis says. “Harry Edward Styles, I love you very much and you are unarguably my favourite. Even more than Nicolo.”

He doesn’t miss the way Harry’s eyes light up. “Good,” is all he says, rubbing their noses together.

“Did you just give me an _eskimo kiss_?” Louis asks, skeptical. And if he’s blushing again, Harry’ll never have to know.

Harry nods proudly. “I’m your favourite. I’m allowed.”

“You’re weird,” Louis says.

“Yeah, but you love me. Can’t take it back now.”

Louis wonders if Harry can see the fondness in his eyes, wonders if he’s as obvious as he sometimes thinks he is. “Wouldn’t want to take it back.”

Harry yawns through his smile. “Good,” he says again.

“Good,” Louis agrees.

They lapse into comfortable silence for a while. Louis thinks it should be weird, because they’re looking at each other and smiling and Harry is still fiddling with his shirt and they’re _not talking_ , but it’s not weird because it’s them and Louis thinks they pretty much make up their own rules.

Sometimes, Louis thinks they could probably take over the world. Sometimes he thinks they will.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry whispers eventually, when Louis is just considering closing his eyes and getting some sleep before Liam wakes them up at some ungodly hour to rehearse before rehearsals. “Can I ask you something? Like, when you’re still being serious?”

Louis snorts sleepily. “’Course, Haz. Better hurry before the spell wears off, though.”

Harry grins weakly, looking at Louis’ chest rather than his eyes. He’s still pulling absentmindedly at his shirt. “Right, well – don’t get mad or anything, okay? Do you promise?"

Louis swallows thickly, stomach curling anxiously. “I couldn’t get mad at you. Promise.”

Harry nods. “Do you ever think about boys?” he asks quietly, still not meeting Louis’ eyes. “Like – like how you might think about girls, I mean?”

Louis breathes in shakily, faltering, completely unprepared for the question. “I – you mean, like – do _you_?” he sputters, a little helplessly.

Harry looks up then, eyes wide. “Don’t freak out,” he pleads.

Louis instantly feels guilty. “No, Harry, I’m not – it’s okay. I was just a little caught off guard, I wasn’t expecting you to, like – that’s all, I swear.”

Harry nods again, taking a deep breath. “Well – I kind of do?” he admits quietly, holding Louis’ gaze. Louis’s feeling a bit faint. “I mean, as of late. And I sort of watched some – y’know, like, porn online, and. I tried, like, my fingers, right? And it felt—“ Harry cuts himself off, shaking his head. “I asked you first.”

Louis can’t catch his breath. Did – fuck, shit, fuck. He’s way over his head with this. “I think everybody does a little bit, y’know?” Louis whispers slowly, choosing his words carefully.

Harry rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling shyly. “I just admitted to fingering myself and that’s all you give me?”

Louis laughs breathlessly, shifting subtly away from Harry to hide the growing problem in his pants. Harry must notice, though, because his face falls slightly. Louis brings a hand up to brush away a stray curl from his eyes so Harry knows he hasn’t scared him away. “I – I, um.” Louis takes a deep breath. He’s never – only his mum knows. “I don’t really think about girls at all, actually. If you – if you know what I mean.”

“Oh.” Harry looks like he’s trying to keep a neutral expression on his face but Louis can see the way his eyes light up, can feel his hand tighten in his shirt. “That’s,” he swallows, nods almost imperceptivity. “That’s cool.”

Louis grins. “Yeah. Pretty cool.”

Harry shoves him gently, biting his own lip. “Don’t make fun,” he says quietly, to which Louis sticks out his tongue. Harry shifts a bit closer and Louis holds his breath, willing his hard-on to go away. “Do you ever think about me?”

Louis releases the pent up air in his lungs with one heavy breath. “Yes,” he whispers simply, heart threatening to burst through his chest.

Louis thinks Harry may actually be glowing. “Would you punch me if I kissed you?”

“Not hard.”

“Good enough,” Harry giggles, eyes shining, and then he’s tightening his grip on Louis’ shirt and pulling him closer, pressing their mouths together softly.

And it’s slow at first, gentle and hesitant but probing and curious, too. There’s something electric about the way they fit together so seamlessly and Louis wants more, he doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough.

Harry opens his mouth under the pressure of Louis’ and pulls him impossibly closer with a hand around his waist, groaning into Louis’ mouth when his erection presses guiltily into his thigh. “Little eager there, Lou?” Harry teases quietly, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip. He lets his hand trace across the waistline of Louis’ pants.

“You talked about your – your fingers,” Louis breathes in defense, running his hand through the fine hairs at the back of Harry’s neck and resisting the urge to rut against his thigh like a fourteen year-old.

Harry hums, fingers trailing lightly over Louis’ clothed cock, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to properly touch. Louis squeezes his eyes shut. “Do you wish they were your fingers?” Harry whispers in his ear, so quiet Louis wonders if he’s making it up.

He doesn’t answer, instead electing to roll onto Harry, holding himself up slightly by his elbows. “I’d let you, you know,” Harry says softly from underneath him, burying his face into Louis’ neck for a brief moment before leaning back to look earnestly into his eyes. “I’d – whatever you wanted, I’d let you.”

A strangled, helpless kind of noise erupts from somewhere in the back of Louis’ throat and he leans down, capturing Harry’s mouth for a proper kiss. “I want everything,” he pants.

“Okay,” Harry agrees, rocking his hips up experimentally. Louis moans quietly at the jolt of pleasure, still acutely aware of Niall sleeping across the room, and rolls his own hips forward in return. Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ waist for better leverage and they build up a bit of a rhythm, quieting their gasps with each other’s mouths and letting their hands wander.

Harry’s cold fingers slip under his shirt and he traces the smooth expanse of Louis’ stomach curiously, thumbing at his hardened nipples. “Will you – off,” he says, tugging at the shirt. “Take it off.”

Louis sits up obediently and adjusts so he’s straddling Harry’s hips, the blankets sliding off his shoulders. He tugs the offending article of clothing off gracelessly. Harry’s staring up at him with dark eyes and Louis’ skin prickles excitedly; he doesn’t feel cold anymore.   

Grinning devilishly, Louis grips the bars of the bunk bed above him for leverage and grinds down against Harry’s crotch, causing Harry to throw his head back against the pillow with a throaty groan that turns into a helpless, breathy kind of laugh. “Again,” he gasps, pushing his hips up fruitlessly. “ _God_ , Louis, that’s – again.”

Louis obliges, grinding down hard. “I’ve tried my fingers, too,” he admits quietly, relishing in the way Harry’s eyes flutter shut. He rocks his hips forward again, and again and again and again. “But I can never – I can’t _reach_ , I can’t find the right angle, but I want – so bad.”

Harry lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. And they won’t – they won’t _do_ that right now, Louis knows, because they’re sleepy and nervous and unprepared, but the way Harry’s hands slide up his thighs to squeeze his bum seems like a promise.

“Come kiss me,” Harry breathes suddenly, so Louis does. He slides off Harry’s lap to settle beside him and Harry rolls over onto his side to seal their mouths together messily without missing a beat, sliding a leg between Louis’ thighs again just because. His fingers start tracing the waistband of Louis’ pants but this time they seem more sure, they have more purpose.

“Can I?” Harry pants against his mouth. He slips his thumb under the waistband.

“Don’t need to ask, Hazza,” Louis croaks, voice hoarse. He slides his own hand between their bodies to snake down Harry’s boxers just as Harry does the same to him, and it’s just like – it’s _Harry_ , right? And that’s just a lot to take in, and he’s so close already.

The slide of their hands is messy and uncoordinated because they’ve never done this to someone else before, but Louis’s coming within a minute of Harry touching him, too high on it to feel embarrassed. He moans into Harry’s neck and Harry swears under his breath as his hand’s coated in Louis’ come, following only seconds after.

They lay there for a moment, breathing heavily into each other’s necks, until Harry unburies his face and presses his forehead against Louis’.

“Hi,” he says, eyes hooded.

“Hey, there.” They grin at each other stupidly, chests heaving. Louis kisses him quickly because he can and draws his hand from Harry’s boxers, wiping it absently on the sheets. “You can take your hand out of my pants now, love.”

Harry giggles quietly and slips his hand out with a bashful nod, wiping it on his boxers. “You’re my favourite,” he says simply, yawning and resting his head on Louis’ chest.

Louis smiles and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, drawing him closer. “You’re my favourite, too.”

And they’re not thinking about the show, they’re not thinking about the band or the other boys or what this could mean for their future. They’re only thinking that this is _nice_ and this is _right,_ snuggling up against each other in a tiny little bed in the smallest room of the X-Factor house. It’s thrilling and it’s scary but it’s comfortable, too, this easy trust that they’ve managed to fall into. It’s special.

The rest will just have to figure itself out. 


End file.
